


good water pressure

by CoraRochester



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Big baby Bucky, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Explicit Romantic Content, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Small Daddy Steve, basically Bucky has a bad day at work and Steve doles out that sexual healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-15 17:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19622722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraRochester/pseuds/CoraRochester
Summary: “Do you want this, baby?” Steve asked. His fingers were framing Bucky’s face, soft and cool on his skin.Bucky put his hands on Steve’s thighs. They were so small under his big hands but they flexed neatly with the way they were hooked around the backs of Bucky’s legs. Leaning into Steve’s space a little more, Bucky inhaled, dragging in the sweet musk of Steve’s warm skin. “Yeah, Daddy,” Bucky murmured, and in return, he got a gentle, chaste kiss that warmed him up inside.





	good water pressure

Bucky immediately face-planted in Steve’s lap when he got home from work. He didn’t even bother with unbuttoning his shirt or taking off his belt— he just sprawled across the couch and buried his face in Steve’s cotton pyjama pants. A knobbly knee dug into his shoulder, and it was a pleasant distraction from how fucking _miserable_ he felt.

Fingers immediately started combing through his hair, and Bucky sighed into the seam of Steve’s pants. They smelled good, like the fabric softener Bucky loved and Steve always forgot to use. Under his cheek, he could feel the soft press of Steve’s junk, a lovely thick bulge when the rest of Steve was so spare.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Steve asked. The fingers moved further down to the skin at the nape of Bucky’s neck, working in whorls and circles and sapping the tension from his very bones.

“Everything,” Bucky told Steve’s pants. “Fridays aren’t supposed to be like this.”

“No, they’re not,” Steve agreed immediately. “You’re home late. I was starting to get worried, sweetheart.”

Bucky couldn’t help but groan. “I know,” he whined, and from there he was off. Steve just kept rubbing his head and neck while he talked. Rumlow had made a shitty comment about his shirt, which was a very nice floral print— of course it looked gay! That was the fucking point! And then he’d spent hours on the connection calcs he was working on, only for new field measurements to come through at the last minute and screw everything up. He’d skipped lunch and crammed a breakfast bar into his gob at three thirty while struggling to read the scribbled figures off a poorly scanned detail drawing, and his boss had the nerve to say that he needed to pick up the pace— which was absurd, given the fact that Bucky’s calculations were reliably good, unlike Rumlow’s. Rumlow’s calculations were garbage and always needed hours of revision— which was exactly what happened when you rushed through as many projects as possible and your ability to count hovered somewhere in the mule-to-snapping turtle range.

“I’m real sorry, honey,” Steve said. His voice was unfairly deep, teasing Bucky’s soft and susceptible insides. He’d somehow untucked Bucky’s shirt and was rubbing up and down Bucky’s spine in long, firm strokes. Bucky felt like his backbone was being painted into submission, an impressionist wonder of art and love. “I really think you deserve to work for a firm that’s going to appreciate how good you are. You’re so much smarter than that place, Bucky.”

Bucky’s reply was muffled against Steve’s belly. “I know,” he sighed.

“Let’s not worry about it tonight,” Steve murmured. Bucky could feel Steve’s belly moving as he breathed, a nice and steady rise and fall that brushed the shell of his ear. “How about we take a nice shower, honey. Get you all cleaned up and ready for bed.”

Bucky groaned. It sounded like a complaint but really it was an agreement, and Steve seemed to know that exactly. He pulled on Bucky’s hair— shoulder grazing, too long, another thing his bosses complained about, even though Bucky was just locked in an office by himself all day— and Bucky lumbered his way up, levering himself up off the welcome pleasure of Steve’s lap.

“You’re coming?” Bucky asked suspiciously. Once tempted, he didn’t like the idea of showering alone. He wanted Steve.

Long fingers pushed the hair out of his eyes. “Of course, baby,” Steve promised.

Steve took him into the bathroom. Once they were shut up in there, Steve sat on the vanity to save space, his tiny ass almost dipping into the sink while his knees were hooked up and over Bucky’s hips. Bucky stood still while Steve undid his shirt one measly button at a time. 

Their bathroom was small. Everything was small in the city, and Bucky always felt like some big beast, shouldering his way into their tiny little box shower, into their tiny little kitchen, into their tiny little bedroom. Steve always fit into every room of their apartment with uncomplicated grace. It was like the rooms and all their fixtures and furniture were made to fit him. Just having Steve nearby made him feel like he was better able to situate his broad shoulders or thick thighs, his big feet or his hairy chest.

Steve pushed Bucky’s shirt off over his shoulders, dragging it long and slow down his arms, the floral print bunching up over his elbows like a tired bouquet. The methodical touch sent tingles up Bucky's arms. Little shivers, really, from how cool Steve’s fingers always were on Bucky’s superheated skin. His undershirt was slipped up and off over his head. His shirts made soft little puddles on the floor, and he liked how he felt when Steve made him bare like this.

“Do you want this, baby?” Steve asked. His fingers were framing Bucky’s face, soft and cool on his skin.

Bucky put his hands on Steve’s thighs. They were so small under his big hands but they flexed neatly with the way they were hooked around the backs of Bucky’s legs. Leaning into Steve’s space a little more, Bucky inhaled, dragging in the sweet musk of Steve’s warm skin. “Yeah, Daddy,” Bucky murmured, and in return, he got a gentle, chaste kiss that warmed him up inside.

Steve’s hands went to his belt. Even backwards, his slim fingers untucked it open, deft and as easy as anything and more graceful than Bucky himself could have managed. His pants were unbuttoned, unzipped, and then they were dropping down his legs for him to step out of.

His boxer briefs were still on, and Steve only gently brushed Bucky’s hardening cock with the back of his hand. Bucky felt each knuckle as it moved over his shaft before lazily drifting upwards and away.

“Mm,” Steve hummed, clearly engrossed. Bucky’s left nipple was caught between two fingers. He could look down and see the pinch of pink skin as it disappeared between Steve’s thumb and forefinger, gently being rolled this way and that. The dark, thick hair on Bucky's pecs made Steve's skin look even more pale and smooth. “Honey, look at these tits,” Steve said. “You’re such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” The praise was a living, hungry thing the way Steve crooned it, and warmth suffused Bucky’s skin. He pushed his chest out a little further and Steve pinched harder. Instant gratification.

Sliding his hands further up Steve's legs, Bucky paused with his thumbs brushing the waist of Steve's pants. “Can I?”

Steve's blue eyes narrowed. “Hmm,” Steve drawled. “No, baby, I don't think so. Not yet. Gotta take care of you first.” Steve leaned forward, still kneading the abused swell of Bucky's nipple. Steve's tongue lapped at his mouth before pushing inside, kissing him so thoroughly Bucky was left breathless, crumbling forward into Steve's arms. But then Steve already was pulling back, breaking the kiss to study Bucky's face.

“Don't let me fall over, baby,” Steve ordered. So Bucky held onto his hips as Steve twisted his wiry body around to dig through their medicine cabinet, bypassing shaving cream and boxes of Band-Aids in his quest for one of their many bottles of lube.

Bucky still held on as Steve turned back to face him, a triumphant little smile at the corners of his mouth and lube clutched in his left hand. Steve leaned forward, his pointed chin digging into the muscle of Bucky's bare shoulder, and used his free hand to tug Bucky's underwear down just enough in the back that it was bunched up under the curve of his ass. His cock, already getting hard, was still caught under his waistband.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed happily, leaning forward so they were chest to chest. His arms wound around Bucky’s waist, the lube disappearing beyond Bucky’s sight. A hand smoothed over Bucky’s ass, palming a cheek and then squeezing hard. Bucky breathed an airy grunt into Steve’s soft hair, and the hand let go in a lingering caress.

A couple of dry fingers squeezed their way between his cheeks, teasing hot skin and the soft, short hair around his hole. “What do you say, baby,” Steve murmured. “Can Daddy fuck you and take care of you?” Fingertips brushed over the tight pucker of his hole, barely any pressure on his skin. “Or do you want something else, pretty baby?”

Bucky was pressed right between the vee of Steve’s legs, and he could feel the thickening nudge of Steve’s cock rubbing his own through their clothes.

“Want you, Daddy,” Bucky managed to say to the soft hair above Steve’s ear.

Dry fingers pressed against him— just a little pressure without any penetration. “Want me to what, baby?” Steve asked. The tip of a single finger pressed down deliberately, not quite sinking inside. “To fuck this hole?”

“Please, Daddy,” Bucky breathed. His voice had gotten higher. Softer.

Steve kissed him again, sucking on his lower lip with his fingers still pressed against his hole. It was hot and wet for only a moment or two before Steve was pulling away, cold air stinging his swollen lip.

Steve’s eyes flicked over to the narrow linen closet in corner, and Bucky’s insides got even hotter. “What have you got in here, honey? Anything good?” Steve’s fingers were petting Bucky’s hole now, no longer trying to find their way inside. It was an almost speculative motion, a hint of all the drawn-out interest yet to come.

“Yeah, Daddy,” Bucky answered, rubbing the tip of his nose and the fat swell of his mouth against Steve’s cheek. “I got a couple things in here.”

Lithe fingers pushed Bucky’s underwear down, and Bucky wiggled a little to get the legs pushed down over his muscular thighs, and when they fell to his feet, he kicked them aside automatically. “Show me, sweetheart,” Steve ordered.

It was two steps to the linen closet. A moment to reach up and blindly rummage around in the basket that sat on the uppermost shelf, inching his fingers over silicone before pulling his prize down.

“What’s that, baby?” Steve asked. The bottle of lube was next to Steve’s hip on the counter, cap already flipped open. “Come show Daddy, honey.”

Bucky stood back in front of Steve, crowding himself into the space between Steve’s splayed thighs. He put the thick, long plug into Steve’s hands. “Here, Daddy,” he said, and his voice was small and breathless as he watched Steve’s hands wrap around the shaft, thumbing where the otherwise smooth silicone had been molded to look like the fat, blunt head of a cock.

Steve took the plug and laid it across his lap. While Bucky watched, Steve squeeze lube across his first three fingers and left the lube at his side. “Ready?” Steve asked. His right arm was already snaking around Bucky’s side.

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered.

The first thing Bucky felt was the messy swipe of lube, smeared into his crack and over his hole, making him slick all the way down to the thin, tender skin of his perineum. Then deft fingers were dragging back upwards, sliding up and down over his hole again and again, coaxing a new looseness into his body. Petting him, soothing him, warming him up.

Like this, it was easy to just… hold onto Steve, a buoy in open water. Bucky wrapped his left arm around Steve’s shoulder, careful not to block Steve’s arm as he worked at opening Bucky up. The other hand he braced against the countertop, sweaty palms sticking. He breathed in, and Steve’s hair tickled his nose. He didn’t feel impatient, merely ready for whatever Steve did next.

Which was exactly when Steve pressed two fingers in— just a little, a teasing jolt to that tight ring of muscle— and then pulled them right back out again. A breath, and then they were working back in again, pushing forward deliberately until Steve’s fingers were tucked well inside of him. Barely inching forward, but rocking in and out in measured little thrusts.

Bucky breathed in and out, holding still but loose. All the tension in his body had eased away, been replaced by the urge to simply _be good_ , to take the pleasure Steve gave him and subsist on it, let it fill him from the inside until every part of him was malleable and open. For Steve.

“You’re so soft, honey,” Steve said, fingers rubbing deep inside, no real direction or rhythm yet. Just as though he were simply playing with Bucky’s body, enjoying its every contour and texture. “I can’t believe how good you feel.”

Bucky felt his ears get hot, and he pressed his face against Steve’s neck, smelling his own cologne on Steve’s skin, their cologne from the little bottle kept on their dresser that Steve used one or twice a week if he remembered and didn’t get distracted by the NPR podcast in the morning.

“I love you,” Bucky said, his heart all swollen in his chest, making it hard to breathe through so much feeling.

Steve’s dry hand came up, curling tightly in the hair at the back of Bucky’s head. He held Bucky still and kissed him for a breath and then two, not once stopping his lazy, indulgent fingering. “I love you, too, baby,” Steve murmured. His voice was low, wrapping itself around Bucky like blankets.

Bucky's eyes slowly blinked open, but he couldn't remember closing them. He saw Steve staring at him, studying his face, his lovely stern jaw set just so on his focused face, and Bucky couldn't help but smile.

“You're such a beautiful boy,” Steve said, and Bucky was so close he could see the faint filmy green striations in Steve's blue eyes, flickering as they moved over Bucky's face with complete focus. “Gorgeous.”

Bucky ducked his head, feeling a little tremulous under the weight of Steve's praise. It was fizzling straight through him, an effervescence that left him shy.

But not so shy that he didn't look at the thick ridge of Steve's cock, though, curved and angled towards one hip. If Steve's fingers weren't pressed so deep inside— oh, Bucky would fall right on his knees just to taste the hot skin of Steve's bare cock. He wanted to taste, to lap at the flushed crown of Steve’s cock, red and silky smooth under his tongue. He wanted the slippery smears of precome that drooled from the tip, bitter and not-yet-enough. He wanted to lick all the way down to the soft, fuzzy hair at the base of Steve’s cock and just breathe in the musky warmth of all of Steve’s hollows.

“What do you think, baby?” Steve asked, pulling Bucky from the hungry want of his own imagination. Steve’s fingers rubbed electric circles deep inside. “You ready for the plug, sweetheart?”

Bucky didn't even pause to think, looking up from the plug in Steve's lap to show his eager face. “Yeah, Daddy. I want it, please.”

There was a pleased smile on Steve’s mouth when he slowly withdrew his fingers. The cool air teased at him, but Bucky stayed relaxed, waiting. The plug was picked up with Steve’s wet hand— the gorgeous dexterous fingers that had already coaxed Bucky to such trembling openness— and greasy smears were left along the silicone shaft as Steve adjusted his grip, holding the plug up between them. Bucky practically held his breath as he watched Steve’s dry hand upend the bottle and douse the plug in with a viscous, drooling trail of lube.

And then the lube was set aside, and Steve’s hand was moving, working over the whole plug, wiping up the lube without wasting a single drop between them. Steve was practically jerking the plug off— the lube was making wickedly lewd sounds in Steve’s fist as he stroked up and down, coating the smooth surface. “What do you think, baby?” Steve asked, fingers slip-sliding down until he was holding the plug up by the base alone. The surface of the plug gleamed and shone in the dim bathroom lighting, every inch of it glossy with lube. “I don’t want to hurt you. Do you think you’re wet enough for this?”

Bucky nodded like his head was on a string. “Yeah, Daddy, yeah.”

Steve hummed consideringly, turning his gaze from the plug to Bucky’s face. The full weight of Steve’s serious blue eyes made him melt and blush. “I dunno, sweetheart. Don’t you want to be dripping wet? I want to see you all shiny and wet. I want to see you all soft and stretched out, baby. Don’t you know how pretty you look like that?”

While Bucky watched, Steve’s dry hand dropped down to his own lap, grabbing the thick erection from over his cotton pants. It was big, the head an obvious bulge even under the fabric, sticking out well above Steve’s closed fist. “Don’t you like it when you’re all wet, and I fuck you like that? When you’re so wet you’re practically gushing around my cock? Daddy loves it, honey. Such a soft, open hole for Daddy’s cock.”

Bucky shuddered. His hips jerked forward, mindlessly seeking contact with Steve’s body but getting no friction.

He wanted that. God, he wanted that so bad he could practically feel it. Steve’s cock sliding into him so easy and sweet, filling him up so full there was nothing else. Just Steve, pressing into him so deeply he could feel it in the back of his throat. Until it almost hurt. Until every wet pump of Steve’s cock into him was pounding him right to glorious pieces.

“Daddy— please. Get me all wet.”

The lube was picked up again, and Steve’s dry thumb flipped the cap back open. The snap echoed loudly, even over the sound of Bucky’s heart throbbing in his ears. “Lean forward a little, honey,” he commanded.

Obeying, Bucky leaned forward until his thighs were right up against the wooden cabinet of the vanity, hands still braced against the countertop and the smell of Steve and lube heavy in the air. He exhaled deeply into the humid room, and was rewarded by cool slither of lube as it kissed its way down his ass.

And on a deep inhale, the plug followed the slippery traces of lube downwards, until the round shaft was pressed snugly between his cheeks, sliding up and down over his hole and lower, to the sensitive skin of his taint. The lube was gloriously thick on his skin, a sensuous wet friction for the molded crown of the fake cock as it rubbed against his rim. It was a long tease, and Bucky looked up from under his eyelashes to see Steve watching his face. “What are you waitin’ for, Daddy?” he asked, dragging his tongue over his lower lip. “‘M all ready.”

The plug paused, the fat tip nudging right up against the pucker of his rim. All of Bucky’s nerve endings seemed to reverberate at that faintest hint of pressure. He closed his eyes, exhaling, as Steve pushed the plug inside in one long, frictionless drag. It pressed deeper and deeper until it was all the way in, Steve’s fingers and the unyielding silicone of the base pressed to his rim.

Bucky realized he was whining when Steve’s dry thumb pressed against his mouth, dragging his lower lip down and stoppering up the swell of noise. “Oh, baby,” Steve said. “Sweetheart. Was that what you needed?”

“Yeah, Daddy,” he replied, the words breathy and a little slurred by the force of Steve’s thumb now pressed to his teeth. “Full. For you.” Steve’s answering smile was a crooked, brilliant thing, and Bucky felt a sweet, bashful pride to have put that look on Steve’s face. 

Fingers tapped on the base of the plug, and Bucky could feel it jostle inside of him, a gentle hint. “What do you say, Baby?” Steve asked, drawing slick fingers up through the soft, short hair that grew up between his cheeks, awakening a ripple of ticklish pleasure that flitted up Bucky’s spine. “You ready for Daddy to make you come?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky hummed and kissed Steve’s thumb where it was still flush to his mouth. Like an answering kiss, Steve’s thumb pressed back, and fell away.

Steve’s fingers curled around the base of the plug, tugging the narrowest part of the plug back out, encouraging Bucky’s hole to open around the thick shaft. The plug was pulled back slowly, right to the head, keeping him stretched out but hungry. Happily powerless, waiting for whatever Steve would give him.

What he got was fullness and pleasure, pressure that jammed itself right up against his prostate with devastating surety. It was a buzz under the skin, a wrecking blow to whatever composure he had left.

“Daddy,” Bucky begged, not asking for anything in particular, just trying to put words to the rising tide within him. 

All their play had left him worked open; the excess of lube made the plug glide in and out of him like Bucky was made of pink satin. Each thrust was worked inside of him with deft precision, nudging the blunt head of plug into the swell of his prostate, a gentle abuse that left him gasping.

Distantly, he could feel his balls drawn up tight and snug under the heavy, upturned pendulum of his bobbing cock. A glance down revealed a clear ribbon of fluid leaking from the silky reddened tip of his own heavy cock, dripping onto Steve’s pants and darkening the fabric in spatters. He felt removed from the gush of precome as it drooled from his cock, too focused on the relentless pressure that had caused it.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Steve murmured, his voice low. “You’re gonna come for Daddy?” Again and again, the plug pressed into him, an endless wave-crash of unholy friction. “Yeah, baby, you’re close, aren’t you?”

Bucky was whimpering with each thrust now, guts all drawn up into tight knots and arms shaking, toes curling against the linoleum. He wanted to answer Steve, wanted to _beg_ Steve, but he couldn’t. All he could do was feel. Feel the rise of heat as is burned deep inside of him, the hungry _more, more, more_ that meant he was achingly close.

“Baby,” Steve murmured, and that was it. Bucky tightened up, squeezing around the plug so hard it was like a new kind of pain to feel so good. Come gushed out of him, his load shooting out in long, thick spurts all over Steve’s lap, drenching his pants and pooling in the folds that bunched up around Steve’s hard cock. Bucky’s orgasm seemed to go on forever, his legs shaking, his whole body aching from the inside out.

The plug was slowly pulled out and dropped carelessly into the sink behind Steve’s back. Bucky clenched up and released, acclimating to the familiar ache of being stretched and empty, his body always slightly confused at the sudden lack that orgasm left behind. He sighed and dropped his head, leaning forward to hide his face in Steve’s warm shoulder. Even Steve’s worn-thin pyjama shirt felt rough against his over-sensitized skin where it dragged against the apples of his cheeks Everything but Steve himself felt like _too much_ in the dazed aftermath.

“That was a lot, wasn’t it, baby,” Steve said, not really asking. Bucky could feel Steve petting his hair, and he all but purred, groaning happily into the hot curve of Steve’s neck and thin shoulder. He didn’t answer, because his Daddy already knew. Daddy always knew.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Steve said. “I’ll get undressed and start the shower. Daddy will wash you up all nice. Then it’s Daddy’s turn, okay?”

“S’okay, Daddy,” he answered. “S’nice.”

Bucky backed up so Steve could slide off the vanity, and he stood by, shaky and loose-limbed, while Steve gingerly peeled off his stained pyjama pants, wadding them up into a ball so come wasn’t smeared all over their floor. 

“C’mere, honey,” Steve said, opening up his far arm for Bucky to slide into while Steve leaned into the shower to twist the knobs to exactly the perfect temperature. It felt so nice to just plaster himself to Steve’s warm, bare side, breathing in the tang of lightly sweat-through deodorant and hot skin. For such a small guy, Steve’s smell was so rich, the all-day scent dirty and soothing all at once. Bucky stuck his face in Steve's hair and breathed deep, listening to the creak of pipes and the patterns of water falling as it warmed.

Steve tested the water before he ushered Bucky into the shower, guiding him forward with hot hands. Bucky let himself be crowded against the cool tile wall, leaning back against it so Steve could stand between him and the spray. He was still too wrung out for the patter of water on his skin— he just wanted the dampness and steam, Steve’s body plastered against his.

Bucky drifted happily while Steve ran soapy hands down his shoulders and arms, cleaning Bucky down to the webbing between his fingers. It was easy like this, easy to let Steve gently manipulate his body to clean under his arms. He sighed out when Steve’s soap-slick fingers massaged the tender little buds of his nipples. Gentle little pinches that built in intensity but never lasted for long, Steve’s fingers sliding right off before the bite became too arousing.

Steve’s fingers paused at the base of his spine, the nails digging in. He could feel Steve’s half-hard cock pressed against his own soft dick, water and soap making the frottage all the better. “Do you want Daddy to wash you here?” Steve asked. “Get you ready for bed so you can rest up, baby?”

Bucky was tired, yeah, but it wasn’t the sort of tired that made him want to sleep. It was the sweet, lax sleepiness of a body that wanted to be laid out and used again, pinned wide open for the taking.

“No,” he told Steve, his refusal the first he’d spoken since they climbed into the shower. “Please, fuck me.”

Steve looked concerned, his fingers coming up to comb the mostly-dry hair out of Bucky’s face. “Are you sure? I could jerk off. You’d make it real easy, honey.” Steve’s thumb pressed against his mouth, the look on his face more predatory now. “You look so pretty like this, Daddy could nut off all over this pretty face and wash you right up.”

 _That_ made Bucky shudder with want— being supplicant on his knees, patient and expectant, waiting to be marked and cleaned— but still, he wanted more. He wanted to be fucked, wanted the hot bloom of Steve’s come in his ass and the satisfaction of it all.

“Daddy,” he whispered, barely audible over the water, even to himself. “You promised.”

Steve smiled. Little droplets of water dotted Steve’s mouth, streaked down his jaw. “You’re right, I did.”

“Was this a waste of hot water?” Bucky asked.

Steve’s face split into a soft smile, and Bucky got a soft kiss for that, Steve’s delightfully sharp little body rubbing up against his. “Not if it made you feel good, baby.”

So they rinsed off and didn’t bother to wash their hair— Steve’s was mostly wet, and Bucky’s was only damp at the ends, cold on his skin when Steve shut off the water. 

They dried their feet off on the mat and shared a towel, wiping off the worst of the water as quick as they could. The cold air was everywhere after the heat of orgasm and the steam of their tiny shower, and Bucky shivered as he watched Steve briskly rub the towel over the back of his head, the blonde gone dark and ashy.

“Come on,” Steve said, and he led Bucky by the hand to their bedroom, both of them still naked as they wove through the cramped space. 

In their room, Steve clicked on his bedside lamp, just a little halo of light cast in a funny stretched out oval across the unmade bed. Steve threw the wet towel down on the fitted sheet, right down the middle, a threadbare slash of grey across their blue sheets.

Before Bucky could crawl happily into bed and sink into the divot in the middle where they always slept, Steve's hand found his hair, yanking Bucky into a firm, dirty kiss that left him sighing into Steve's hot mouth, whining around the press of Steve's tongue. Steve's other hand groped restlessly over his ass, squeezed and kneaded and tugged his cheeks apart, a rush of cold over what little lube still clung to his skin. His passage was still slick and open, but the slightly puffy rim and the taut skin of his crack had been mostly rinsed clean.

“Let me get the good stuff, honey,” Steve said, like he could read Bucky's mind. “Lay on your back for me.”

The bed was soft and the towel cool beneath him when Bucky laid back, propping his feet flat onto the bed and letting his thighs fall open wide. On the opposite side of the bed, Steve already had the fancy lube in hand, crawling into bed as he fiddled with the pump top.

Bucky reached down, massaging his tender balls and lifting them up out of the way, baring his perineum and hole to Steve’s avid, burning gaze. He felt sex-dumb and loose and pretty, and he sighed happily when he felt great fat globs of cold lube drool all over his swollen hole, Steve’s fingers sliding quickly back into him, slathering him up so good and sweet, using his thumb to rub tender little circles into Bucky’s puckered hole. He was even now relaxing, easing open gratefully until it felt like he could take anything Steve wanted to give him.

Two fingers pumped in and out of Bucky, shallow and teasing and keeping him loose. “You’re doing perfectly,” Steve praised, and Bucky blushed, looking shyly away from the intensity of Steve’s gaze. Bucky only felt brave enough to glance up a few moments later, when Steve’s lovely long fingers slipped free of his body. He watched from lowered eyes while Steve stroked a sloppy fistful of lube over his cock, squeezing himself so roughly when all Bucky wanted to do was sink his plush, soft mouth down over the fat head of it, worshipping until Steve could come right down his throat.

Only that idea was forgotten, gone right outside of Bucky’s head as soon as Steve’s bare cock was kissing right up against the slack mouth of Bucky’s hole, nudging in with short little dips. Bucky breathed out, the sound halfway to a sigh, and let his whole body soften.

After all these years, Steve knew just how to feed his cock right into Bucky's body, mindful of anything, everything. And right now, Steve all hungry above him and Bucky all laid out and complacent, it was all balanced motion and unyielding girth. Just slow and steady, a reliable and heady drag that filled him right up until his whole body was awash with that full-body shakiness of want and need. He could feel Steve’s hips right up against the backs of his splayed thighs, Steve’s fists planted against the towel on either side of his waist.

Blinking slowly, hazy and full up on love and his Daddy’s thick cock, Bucky smiled. “Hi, Daddy,” he whispered.

Steve’s answering smile was warm, indulgent. Bucky loved the red flush of Steve’s narrow face, the sweat along Steve’s brow. He wanted to lick Steve clean, every inch of his Daddy’s sweaty skin. He wanted to live on the floor between his Daddy's knees. He wanted Steve's steady hands guiding his sloppy careless mouth as it licked into the small, tight hole between Steve’s cheeks.

A gentle nudge pulled Bucky back down to Earth, Steve’s cock pushing just a little deeper into his body. “You ready, honey? For Daddy to fuck you?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky nodded, pulling his knees up high.

Under his hand, Bucky’s cock was still half-soft, his balls still throbbing with spent pleasure, but he could feel the slow rush of his body sliding lazily back towards arousal. Steve rocked into him continuously, not pressing in too deep or too quick, just a few inches at a time. Easy, like his Daddy had all the time in the world to work Bucky right back up again, like he hadn’t been hard and waiting this whole time. Thinking about Steve’s patience made Bucky feel even softer on the inside, and he whined a little, clenching down on Steve’s cock.

Everything was hot and cold at once, and Bucky was ice cream in the sun, cold but melting, sticky and barely upright at all. Water from Steve’s hair was dripping onto his belly, and the towel was cold under his back, but Bucky was so hot at the tender place where Steve had pried him open and filled him up. Bucky could feel Steve’s hands on his thighs now, holding him in place as Steve’s whipcord body worked him over, everything just the gentle, rocking sway of _them_.

"You're such a big, pretty boy, aren't you, baby," Steve said. His voice was all rough now, hot sand on ocean-cold skin. "Jesus, look at those sweet tits. Go on, honey, look down," Steve encouraged. "That's it, baby. Look at 'em bouncing all pretty for Daddy."

They were, Bucky saw. His big brown nipples were poking right up towards Steve like he was the sun. The fat and muscle of his thick pecs bouncing because Bucky was nothing but pliant and easy, fucked into absolute softness, an agreeable little toy for Daddy to put his cock in. The hair on his tits was still wet from the shower, flattened but starting to curl right back up. Down the crease between his pecs and over his belly, Bucky could see his thighs yanked up high and tight, his belly curled up. His hard cock was jumping a little, the wet tip rolling against his belly in time with Steve’s thrusts.

“Touch your little tits, baby,” Steve said, “Show Daddy how sweet you are.”

Bucky felt all hot and prickly, his belly all fluttering, and his fingers felt shy and weak when he let go of his knees and dragged his hands up his sides to trace over his chest. He rubbed big loose circles over the hair on his chest, dragging his fingers in closer to the stiff, hot skin of his chubby nipples, the areolas wide and dark, puffed up and tender. “Feels good, Daddy,” Bucky whispered.

Steve’s smile was mostly flashing blue eyes and only the faintest sharp slash of red mouth, but Bucky felt it all the way inside, in the deep place where Steve was snugged up right inside of him. He felt all hot and tight, almost squirmy with how Steve made him feel, and he blushed under Steve’s fond gaze, suddenly shy.

“That’s my sweet boy,” Steve said, dragging cool hands up the back of Bucky’s thighs until they were braced at the back of Bucky’s knees, pushing down until Bucky was bent right in half under Steve’s weight. “Daddy’s so happy to have you.”

And Bucky felt thoroughly _had_ , too, sinking into the bed with his hips tilted up so far that Steve could just slide right in and out of him like there was nothing to it. Bucky could barely pick his head up off the pillow, but he could still see Steve if he peeked out from under his lashes. The flop of blonde hair falling over his dark brows, his smooth jaw. The rounded balls of his shoulders and the toned, thin arms. His narrow chest and the sharp points of his pink nipples. The taut skin of his lean belly, the jump of wiry muscle at each deliberate thrust. Steve looked so strong like that, and Bucky was so happy to be weak, to take off every awful thing and shed it carelessly, let it be lost into nothingness as Steve somehow rendered Bucky right down into hard candy that was meant to be tucked under the tongue and sucked down to effervescent sweetness.

“Thanks, Daddy,” Bucky said, his voice breathless and cracking a little on the _a_ of each word, tripping over thin air. Bucky's fingers were pinching at his tits now, almost like he didn’t have any control over it, just feeding that rampant hunger every time it asked for more. He looked up at Steve and hoped like hell all the adoration and want was scribbled onto his face, beaming out of his eyes and visible from the moon.

Steve’s hands squeezed his thighs even harder, and Bucky hoped for bruises. “Anything for you,” Steve said. His serious eyes were black and blue and so focused, and there wasn’t a single thing Bucky had to worry about. 

It was easy to simply close his eyes. He couldn't even keep track of Steve's thrusts anymore. All Bucky could grasp was the occasional deep grind, the rare moment of near-emptiness when the plush head of Steve's cock tugged at his rim. Everything else was sheer gluttony, a hunger that lived and breathed on its own. The touch at his nipples was a lot, too, the little buds all swelled up and hot, twisted and yanked until they throbbed. Sensation zinged from one part of his body to another, even the timid and shy bits, the curled toes and belly rolls, the damp palms and bulky muscle that curved over his bicep.

When Bucky opened up his eyes, his Daddy was still staring down at him, blue eyes nearly glowing and fat red tongue licking over his bottom lip. 

“Oh, god, baby,” Steve bit out, and Bucky could hear the way those gravelly words were jarred out of Steve on each thrust. “Baby, what a sweet little hole you got for me. All for Daddy, isn’t it, just to make me happy. God, you’re perfect. Look at those red little titties, all fat for Daddy.”

With both of them vulnerable and rushing, voluptuously, towards orgasm, Bucky somehow still couldn’t help but blush at the filthy way Steve cajoled him. And still, it was instinct to arch his back and lift up his chest, presenting his tits shyly for his Daddy. When he peeked down, he could see how fat his pecs looked, all swelled up, framed by his thick arms and pinched to a blotchy pink-red-white.

“Christ,” Steve swore, and it was low and hoarse, shocking enough to send a tremulous jerk of pleasure shooting down Bucky’s cock where it rested against his belly. 

“Daddy—” Bucky asked, sudden and urgent because he couldn’t help himself. His fingers were already drooping off his abused nipples, drifting downwards. “Can I— Daddy, please let me—” 

Steve grunted, fucking into Bucky so hard it was just a jolt of sensation. “Yeah, yeah, baby, go on, play with your little cock for me.”

It started slow, with needy fingers stroking down the hard length of his silky-hot dick, tentative in the way he hooked his thumb just under the head before he started jerking off in slow, steady drags. Bucky knew his balls were all pulled up, too, baring his taint and hole, the lubed-up greediness of his body and the ticklish little hairs that were smeared this way or that. 

He knew Steve liked the look of him because everything got rougher after that, the demand and sweet acquiescence, the hard drag of Steve’s gaze pulled all the way down to the wet, sloppy place where Steve’s cock had forced him open. Steve had always liked the look of him, the height and weight and brutal thickness of him— all of it just another thing his Daddy adored, another way to make his Daddy happy.

“Just like that,” Steve said, strong hands jammed right up under Bucky’s knees now, keeping him splayed wide open. Steve wasn’t heavy but the sheer _weight_ of him was unfathomable, and Bucky was helpless against it, vulnerable to whatever it was that made Steve so big and indomitable, so slight and massive all at once, sinking his cock into Bucky like Bucky’s body was made to be conquered. “Gonna make Daddy come.”

Bucky felt his whole body squeeze up all hot and tight, his body responding to Steve’s words like a reflexive little plea of a _yes, please, Daddy_. His cock was all big and hard in his fist, dribbling all over his belly and _god_ , it hurt, almost, that drag of friction and the body’s own mindless throbbing. That almost-pain, almost-orgasm had him tightening up his hand, pumping quicker now. His hips and thighs were aching, but the ache was a rush, too, everything swelling all at once within him.

The tidal rush of his own body, though— it wasn’t urgent, not when Bucky couldn’t quite look away from the red smear of a flush across Steve’s cheeks, the blacked-out irises and hard, panting mouth. What was happening to them was raw and merciless now, his Daddy’s cock fucking into him on some barely-there rhythm, their bodies damp and cold and hot and clammy, slamming together where everything was the stickiest. It was messy, dirty, and Bucky wanted—

“Daddy, please,” Bucky whimpered, words catching in his throat just a little, fuck-bruised to raspiness. The whine that fell out of his mouth was high-pitched and helpless. “Come on, please.”

Steve grunted once, twice, the guttal sound almost lost in the meaty wet slap of their bodies. And then his Daddy’s cock was just— just, _hitching_ into him, not pounding but just feverish little jerks that nudged up into smallest, fullest, hungriest parts of him and—

“Baby, Bucky— oh, sweetheart, that’s—” and Daddy sounded drunk, lost in it, his body drawing up tight and sharp and hard, and Bucky could tell, he was just on the edge, riding that wire, and Bucky was, too.

Squeezing the head of his cock in his fist, Bucky focused on the pleasure that played deep inside, a throb and a gasp. He only had to wait a little longer. “Daddy, please, come on,” he whispered, rough and urgent. “I need it, please.”

So Steve gave it to him, his face all loose with trembling pleasure but his body still hard and taut as he blanketed his baby’s big body.

Hot come filled Bucky in smothering waves, his body winding itself tighter around all that Daddy was pushing into him, and Bucky was jerking himself off again, desperation clawing at the back of his throat and coming out in tender, hurt little whines he couldn’t bite back.

Bucky could feel, now, how he was shaking, but the shaking was everywhere, and Daddy’s breath was warm on his neck and shoulders, fierce pants and the harsh pull of indrawn air. His thighs, legs, hips, knees were all locked up tight but he was still squirming, restless, anchored only around the body above him, the cock inside him.

And then Steve was still inside of him, and Bucky was jacking off, the restless friction making his Daddy’s cock slide against the slippery mess of his own come inside of Bucky’s hole. Just another burn and shiver, met by the sound of Daddy’s low, hoarse voice trembling over his skin. “That’s it, baby boy. That’s it.”

Coming for the second time was honey sweet and vinegar sharp, dragged out and coaxed out until he was gasping with it, just a little puddle of come on his belly for all the shocking oversensitivity of it. Bucky gasped at the feel of it, the way orgasm lingered in the body, the way Steve's body lingering in and over his, a hazy warm shadow. A comfort.

Their bodies came loose in stages: the soft slip of Steve’s cock out of Bucky’s used hole; the gentle way Steve eased Bucky’s feet back down onto the bed, stroking down trembling muscle as Bucky slowly inched his legs out straight; Steve stretching out his own back from being hunched over so tightly. By the time Steve was flopping back down onto the bed next to him, Bucky could feel the pooling wet of his Daddy’s thick come drooling out of his body. Heat suffused him all over again, the sweet laxity of it, a body wrung out and sated until nothing was left but that burnished glow. The ceiling above them was a little water stained, the familiar brown curl and smudge like cloud watching.

“Gimme a minute, sweetheart, and I'll wipe you up,” Steve said, breath still a little quick. Bucky looked over and was stupidly pleased with the splotchy peony blooms of Steve’s cheeks, the shock of red on Steve’s pale skin. There was just enough light that Bucky could see the faintest ripple of gooseflesh on Steve’s chest. Bucky wanted to push his face into the hard line of Steve's sternum, breathe in the left over sweat and soap, feel the tickle of gorgeously fine golden blonde hair against his nose and mouth and the corners of his eyes. Bucky knew that if he did that, did let his body sink into Steve's, they'd never make it out if this bed until morning.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, slurring only a little. “Gotta get into the bathroom anyway.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. They were holding hands now, but Bucky couldn’t remember exactly when their fingers had curled together like that. “You feel better, baby?” Steve spoke all quiet-like, tender and low. 

Their bed smelled warm and safe, the curtains drawn against the _everything else_ of the world. The lamplight hit the bridge of Steve’s nose and cast a little shadow on his face, his narrow mouth set in a hard line that Bucky still, somehow still, after years and years, wanted to lick like ice cream.

“Feels good, daddy,” Bucky answered honestly. He couldn’t now recall why he had felt so bad. It felt trivial.

Steve’s hand squeezed his, that narrow mouth twitching in the faintest approximation of a pleased smile. 

In a few minutes, Bucky knew they’d get up and go to the bathroom to scrub away the sloppy thick good lube and messy come. They’d stand in front of the sink and use the other’s toothbrush on accident. Steve’s bony elbows would hog all the space in front of the sink, and Bucky would scoot Steve back with a nudge to his thigh. 

The thought of it let Bucky roll out of bed to stand on watery knees, wobbling as he yanked the towel out from under Steve to wipe up a little before walking through their whole apartment. While Bucky sponged at his thighs, Steve stumbled out of bed, too, picking up a slack end of the towel to wipe up his hands.

“Love you,” Bucky said, because he _did_ love the way Steve fussed at wiping away the lube dried onto the webbing of his long fingers. Bucky smiled at the sight, stupid sick in love all over again.

But Steve looked over at him with the same stupid smile, and maybe Bucky should’ve felt like a dope with his thighs splayed and half a yard of terry cloth snugged up under his balls, but…

It just felt really, really good when Steve said, “Love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many kind thanks to [steebadore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steebadore/pseuds/steebadore) for a) cheerleading me on in the first place when I came up with this idea while drunk twittering, b) supporting me even as I left this fic mid-coitus to work on my [rbb fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196227/chapters/45634681), and then c) turning around and beta reading this bad boy after I finished it in a 4th of July fueled haze. Truly, the patron saint of Daddy Kink. I am unworthy!
> 
> Any many thanks to everyone that supported me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/corarochester) as I have basically cock teased you all for several months with a prolonged series of teeny tiny snip snops. Feel free to follow for more absurd content.
> 
> And, also, title comes from the song of the same name by Milk & Bone.


End file.
